


Ours.

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Darkine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Melania arrives, and Michael gives Dark some advice he'd rather not hear.





	Ours.

“Well how long does it fucking take to deliver an angel baby?!”  
The doctor looked sideways at Dark, nearly ripping out his hair. “It’s impossible to tell. Could take a few minutes, could take a day.” The doctor shrugged. “All we can do is make her comfortable and wait it out.“  
As the doctor walked away, Dark dropped into the waiting seat next to Michael. “And now,” Michael whispered, “we wait.”  
Neither of them were allowed in the room; Christine had requested that. Dubhán and Ciarán were at home, anxious.  
Michael tugged his phone out of his pocket, stood up, and began to walk off.  
Dark stopped him with a light hand on his elbow. “I’ll be right back,” Michael reassured him. “I’ll just tell Ciarán what’s going on.”  
Dark nodded and let him go. Dropping his head into his hands, he breathed out. Christine would be okay. Their kid would be okay.  
His kid.  
Michael shoved his phone back into his pocket as he rounded the corner. Dark was still sitting where he’d left him, staring at his… lap?  
Michael plopped down next to him. “Uh… Dark?”  
"Hm?”  
“Any reason you’re staring at your crotch?”  
“Melania. Our kid.” Dark’s voice was full of wonder. “I’m a dad. I’m a dad.”  
Michael half-grinned. “Yeah. Let’s hope that she doesn’t take after you.”  
Suddenly defensive, Dark turned to look at him. “What? Why?”  
“Well,” Michael shrugged, “you’re not exactly the greatest example. Setting fire to the kitchen?”  
“That only happened twice.”

Michael raised his eyebrows.  
“Three times. But that was Dubhán’s fault.”  
“My point is,” Michael said, shifting to look at him, “she can’t do that. You know that as well as I do. And you,” he added, looking sharply at Dark, “can’t let her do that.”  
Dark whipped his head up. “Not the fucking time, Michael.”  
“No. You need to hear this, before the doctor comes out of that room.”  
“Hear what? You telling me I’m not good enough to be a father?”  
“No— well, kind of—”  
“News flash,” Dark growled, “I already fucking know.”  
“You know that wasn’t what I was trying to say,” Michael snapped. “All I’m saying is, you might not be ready. All I’m saying is to be careful.”  
“You think I don’t know that?”  
“Dark, I—”  
“Fuck off, Michael.”  
He stopped mid-word. “Okay, fine.” Standing to go, Michael turned back. He saw the thinly veiled panic in Dark’s eyes, and couldn’t find himself caring. “Just remember what I said. You’re not ready. You were tying cans to Sasha’s tail yesterday. You can’t raise a kid.”  
Michael walked away. What he said had come out horribly wrong, harsh, and he knew it. But right now, consumed with worry, he couldn’t care less about Dark.  
Dark stared at his hands. He didn’t move or speak. A single tear dropped onto his thigh, burning away at the fabric.  
~FOUR HOURS LATER~  
Michael stood just behind Dark as the doctor walked out of the ward, pale but smiling. “You can see her now.”  
Dark pushed past the nurses, breaking into a sprint before he reached the double doors. Shaking his head, Michael, then Ciarán, and Dubhán slowly followed.  
Dark slowed, panting, and knocked on the door. A weary, “Come in,” came from inside.  
Christine hadn’t finished the sentence before Dark slipped into her room. It was dark, warm, smelling like milk. Wordlessly, we walked over to see the bundle she held in her arms.  
“Nuh-uh. Sanitize.” She jerked her chin at a bottle that stood on the counter.  
Dark rubbed his hands carefully before waking back over. “You okay?” He whispered, afraid to break the quiet.  
Christine nodded. Grinning, she rocked the cooing wad of blankets she held. “You wanna hold her?”  
Dark pulled up a chair as fast as he could. Christine chuckled, gently positioning his arms. “Cradle her head, okay?”  
He nodded. Christine carefully gathered up the baby and set her into Dark’s arms.  
“Are those…”  
“Wings.”  
Melania rolled over in her father’s arms, tucking a downy wing over herself.  
Dark looked uncertain. Christine smiled. “Rock her, hug her. She’s ours, Dark.”  
“Ours…” his voice was filled with awe.  
He thought he understood, now, what Michael had meant.  
This little girl was theirs. And he had to keep her safe. No room for error, no carelessness. This was real. She was real.  
Darks eyes shot open wide. Melania grabbed a handful of his shirt and tugged, obviously wide awake. She gave him a toothless giggle.  
Dark looked dumbfounded. “Hi,” he breathed.  
Michael knocked quietly enough on the door that Christine could pretend to not hear it. Another minute passed, and he knocked again. “Come in,” Dark called.  
Stepping in, Michael hushed the other two. Dark sat by the bed, a bundle in his arms.  
‘She’s asleep,’ he mouthed, eyes darting to Christine.  
Michael nodded, smiling. ‘You okay?’ He mouthed back.  
Dark looked down at Melania, and back up at Michael. He nodded. ‘Thank you.’  
A beat passed. Michael mimed rocking the baby. Dark nodded before standing, cradling Melania into his chest.  
Michael sat quietly, taking her into his arms. “Welcome, Melania,” he whispered, the Darks looking over his shoulder.  
Christine stirred, hand reaching for the baby. Dark took it and squeezed her fingers gently.  
“Ours.”


End file.
